No voices

Tulpen is a newer friend, a woman who I admire for her tremendous strength, sharp wit, and unfailing honesty.

I am drawn to writers who are multi-dimensional, who are real and raw and forthright. Tulpen is all of these things.

I am keeping my words here to a minimum so that you’ll follow Tulpen over to Bad Words once you’ve read her words here.

Thank you, Tulpen, from the bottom of my heart.

No voices — by Tulpen

A couple years ago, I was approached by a Mommy on the playground. She’d noticed Owen’s hearing aids, and pointed out her son, who had a cochlear implant.

One would think that we’d have much to talk about, having such an important aspect of our lives in common.

One would think.

But. She’d made a choice for her son, that made the boys very different indeed.

She explained to me about her decision, and how very difficult it was to make, to mainstream him in a public school.

She finished her spiel, and prompted me to take my turn at expressing the difficulties I’d faced in choosing an education for my child.

She didn’t get what she expected.

There was nothing difficult about my decision. In fact, it never felt like a decision at all, just another gift.

Of course, our situation was unique in that normal was never going to be an option for Owen. Before his hearing loss was discovered, I’d wondered how he’d fare in school, amongst ‘normal’ kids; as the kid with all the scars, with the developmental delays, with the feeding tube.

We’d been warned that he would likely lose his hearing due to massive amounts of Gentamicin given to him in his first weeks of life. But still, I was shocked when at 15 months he was diagnosed with a mild to moderate hearing loss (which has since progressed to profound). I was handed a thick folder full of resources for raising a child with a hearing loss, and pointed in the direction of a woman who ran a school I was lucky enough to live near.

Within the week, she was sitting on my living room floor, signing to Owen. And telling me about her school. The school he’s been attending since he was 15 months old.

A private school for the Deaf that rents out space within a public school system. All academics are in ASL, group and 1:1 speech therapy, English language instruction, with a staff that are all Certified Teachers of the Deaf, 50% of them Deaf themselves. Students may, if and when they wish, attend mainstream classes with an interpreter, or an FM system. Lunch and recess are with the Hearing kids.

This magical little bubble gives him a place to belong that, if not for his Deafness, he wouldn’t have.

A place where each child, though they may have varying levels of residual hearing, all have a language in common. A community, a culture.

Though he may be able to get by in the Hearing world, it will always be with some struggle. Any background noise interferes with his comprehension of spoken language. A crowded room, store, playground? He’ll struggle to hear. He’ll try, and he’ll get some, but he’ll miss plenty. And that will be a fact of his life. He’ll deal with that always.

But.

He’ll also have access to a world without those struggles. A community of Deaf people, who speak his language; one he won’t ever have to struggle to understand.

Watching Owen with his Deaf friends melts my heart. They all speak. Some better than others. And? They all sign. Better than I do.

I’m mostly a self-taught signer, and seeing that Owen and his friend’s skills’ have surpassed my own, I signed up for an ASL class. An advanced, voice off class. I was nervous, and attended the first one alone. The instructor is an animated, funny, fluent, Hearing signer. The atmosphere of the class was very relaxed and welcoming, with mostly Hearing students, but a few Deaf as well.

The next week, Owen begged and begged, and I let him tag along.

As we made our way down the aisle, the class being held in an auditorium, heads turned. Faces lit up. First the students’. Then Owen’s.

Hands and arms and faces welcoming him. Asking him his name. How old is he? What grade is he in?

No voices. Only bodies. And faces. Big smiling faces.

At first, his hands were small, shy, signing close to his body, close to me.

The teacher focused her lesson on Owen, as he was the only Deaf person there at the time. Checking with him to make sure she’d done the sign correctly. He’d let her know if she did, or if she didn’t. A good enough teacher she is to make a mistake and give him the chance to correct her.

A half hour into the class, Erik showed up, animatedly apologizing for being late. He was welcomed by the teacher and the rest of the class and took his seat right behind Owen and introduced himself.

Recognizing Owen as a fellow Deaf person, the two of them took off into an ASL conversation that left every Hearing person in the room a puddle on the floor.

I didn’t even bother to try to follow along. Though It would have been a futile attempt through the tears in my eyes.

I was peering into the little world I’d given him. The world where he isn’t disabled. Where he isn’t different. Where he is loved.

Where he just simply belongs.

If I’d ever doubted my ‘choice’ to give my son this world, though I never have, this moment would have convinced me that I’d done right.

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81 comments

I think back to the classes and classes my ASL teacher spent leading discussions about deafness and cochlear implants and the controversy and I wish SO much that I could go back in time and have everyone read this.

Tulpen, this is one if the most beautiful posts I've read. It made tears come to my eyes reading about him joining you at the class. I believe you gave given him a wonderful gift.

bywordofmouth

6:29 am, Feb 7, 2011

Like The Empress, I too followed Tulpen back to her haven in the blogosphere and pored thro her posts.
So glad she is featured here today, she lives and breathes the small moments and then blesses us with her take on them.
Beautiful!

My daughters have both learned "a little" sign- sort of conversational sign if you will. It alwys makes person smile when they are in need of sign and then someone is around to offer it- more people should know the "basics" … I mean if we know html and Spanish can't we learn sign? Found you over at The Purse Blogger- and I'm following you- hope you can stop by my place and return the favor soon

What a lovely post! I felt like I was right there in that world with them. I love when that happens. I have known a few deaf people over the years, and have consequently learned to finger spell…so I could have very, very slow and deliberate conversations with people…assuming they can spell. I also taught my son some signs when he was little & it was a really awesome way to communicate a little before he could talk.

My daughter is not deaf, but she has cerebral palsy and a chromosome disorder. I have never wanted her to be mainstreamed and I have always felt a little guilty about that. Here, you have put into words my feelings that I have struggled with for years. I never realized that I gave her a world where she was accepted, and comfortable and had other kids who are like her. It feels so amazing to think of it this way, instead of feeling guilty for not wanting her to be mainstreamed. Thanks so much for putting this into words and helping me to see clearly!

Oh how I love Tulpen, I have followed her blog for longer than I can remember and on many occasions have been rendered almost speechless as no comment I could come up with could ever do justice to the post that she had just poured so much of her heart into.

businesslorelei

9:29 am, Feb 7, 2011

Many many sides to this issue. What feels right to one would not to another. Where one parent struggles another sees a path clear as day.

What an incredibly beautiful testament of a mother's love for her son, his resilience and finding his true voice. Well done!

Nubian

9:48 am, Feb 7, 2011

There are days that Tulpen will have me snorting my tea and truly laughing out loud, there are days where she gives me the right kick in the ass off the pity pot and then there are days that she leaves me totally verklempt. Today would be a verklempt day.

I love me some Tulpen. Her words always drop me to the floor, with laughter or tears. That she found this safe place for her child, just amazing. What a wise and wonderful and yet so very human mother she is.
Thank you for sharing her here. Tulpen you are my goddess, you know!

The controversy still goes on, or so I've heard. I haven't encountered it in my experience with the Deaf yet. I am thinking that as this coming generation of Deaf children, who use both ASL and spoken English will be the 'norm' among the Deaf community. Or maybe I'm just hoping that will be the case…

What a beautiful story. "the gift you gave him". How I love this. You gave him his wings so he could fly. I hate to sound too corny but oh my…this is exactly what you did. You are an amzaing mother. Your son sounds amazing too.

you made the right call, for sure! glad he is thriving. very glad. and glad you are such a good mom to him!

andygirl

12:22 pm, Feb 7, 2011

I'm a puddle! what a great moment.

I have a very good friend who is hearing disabled. and he's always struggled with his place in the world. he has very good friends who love him very much, but I've always wondered if he would be less bitter about his disability if he had a community of people who share that. community goes a long way.

Annabelle

1:02 pm, Feb 7, 2011

You know, it's not cool to cry at work.

I love Tulpen, I've read her for a long time. I'm always guaranteed a laugh or a tear, sometimes both.

Honesty & courage are Tulpens hallmarks. I took 3 years of ASL and it is true that signers are a community all their own. There are even slight variations or dialects if you will from one community to another ( I learned this when I traveled out of state) . What a wonderful mom Tulpen is! Being a great mom is so hard and often very painful. God Blessed Owen.

Tracie

2:18 pm, Feb 7, 2011

I love Tulpen. She is a treasure in the blogosphere. She shoots straight from the hip, can make me snort my morning coffee yet she can write the most heart warming posts that leave me in a puddle of tears.

I'm so glad that Owen has her for a mom and that he has a peer group where he is so happy.

You. Amaze. Me.
Each and every day.
I cried for the wonderful woman you are, and the wonderful way you wrote about your son in this post.
Thank you so much for sharing this beauty with us. We are lucky to know you.

I haven’t met Tulpen before. I’m glad I met her today. I know the isolation the burden of a hearing loss brings, and I’m so happy that Owen doesn’t have to suffer that isolation. That’s the beauty of the online community though. I have more friends and supporters through the written word, and have the best conversations all via social media, all of which are a uplift to my very social nature. If only I had that in the real world though. As another with a profound hearing loss, I really really REALLY should learn ASL.

Such a beautiful post! I think I shouldn't read Small Moments Mondays until I am alone, because I generally cry. Good tears, because Tulpen has given Owen such an amazing gift and community and place to belong. We should all be so lucky, because everyone needs a safe place like that.

tulpenelefanten

9:35 pm, Feb 7, 2011

Ok. I tried.

But I just got home from a crazy shift at work, running around all day tomorrow, and then working again.

I wanted to respond to all your nice comments. But I gotta go to bed. And I'm not sure how much computer time I'll be getting for a couple days.

So. Thanks Nichole and all you nice people here.

And for those who ventured over to my blog, welcome there too, pardon my potty mouth. Is just who I am.

Beautiful post. We all want that kind of world for our kids — where they are loved and accepted. And, happy.

pajamadays

8:19 am, Feb 8, 2011

This post is so emotionally charged. You are an amazing mom who gave your child the best gift ever – inclusion. I wish more families would understand the need to be around a community that really gets you.

Oh girlie – tears with you. I picture Owen as an incredibly gifted musician, creating a work of art with his hands.

The gift you all have both been given.

If any of you who read this do not run to this woman's blog and read the whole thing post to post, you are missing out.

Love you Tulpen dear.

wantapeanutblog

4:54 pm, Feb 8, 2011

I've been a Tulpen fan for a while and am so glad to see her here. I have learned a bit of sign language myself, taking a few online courses, to try to help my son with autism communicate. It always leaves me wanting to learn more, and perhaps someday I will have the time to take some more advanced classes. It's so wonderful to find a community. I hope that my son will be able to do that as well, though of course with autsim, it is a bit more challenging since social delays are a major factor. Still, to find people who see (or hear) the world as you do is a precious gift.

This is . . . I have no words and I NEVER run out of words. I am awed by this, this incredible gift Tulpen has given her son. It's all we can ask for, acceptance and love and here this sweet boy stands in both worlds, getting exactly that because of a mother who knew and understood.

this post is absolutely beautiful. I love that as a mother, Tulpen, you could give…GIVE your son a community. that is huge. how many of us struggle into adulthood to find people who are like us. you have given him a gift. and you have given US a gift by sharing this. thank you.